A TRAGEDY 



to make us think that something was wrong, for an 

 Eskimo driver is nearly always trotting beside his 

 sledge. The dogs turned hungrily towards their 

 accustomed door, but the boy took no notice of 

 them, but left them in their harness and ran towards 

 the Mission house. I watched him pass, ashen faced, 

 panting, stumbling ; and a little later I heard his 

 story. At first incoherently, then with graphic 

 gestures and loud lamentations he told his tale ; and 

 here it is. 



His name was Rena, and he had started at day- 

 break for the edge of the ice. His brother, Jakko, 

 was with him, and they were after seals. They had 

 a harpoon and a gun, and they talked as they went 

 of the splendid hunt they would have on so fine a 

 day. Tautuk ! such clear, calm water and so many 

 seals swimming about ; it was a real day for the sina, 

 and before they had been there many minutes Jakko 

 had shot a seal. It was wounded and floated on the 

 water, lashing with its flappers but too weak to dive. 

 Oh for a boat or a kajak ; but they had none, and 

 reach that seal they must. They did what Eskimos 

 always have done in like circumstances and always 

 will do ; they clambered on a piece of loose ice and 

 paddled with their hands towards the seal. 



They got on fairly well until they were twenty 

 or thirty yards from the edge of the icefield and the 

 seal was near enough to be speared. Jakko stood up 

 and poised his harpoon, ready to strike, while Rena 

 paddled gently with his hands to steady the ice-raft. 

 The change of position must have upset the balance 

 of the ice, for no sooner did Jakko stand up than it 

 began to heel slowly over. For a moment they were 

 too intent on the seal to notice their peril, but as the 



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